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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710217">morning routine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/meradorm/pseuds/meradorm'>meradorm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, toppish muddler and lazy bottomish Joxter make me happy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:35:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710217</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/meradorm/pseuds/meradorm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They had fallen into an easy pattern together, even though they had to hide.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joxaren | The Joxter/Rådd-djuret | The Muddler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>morning routine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>They had so few moments alone.</p>
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  <p> </p>
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  <p>The Muddler was always up first, half because he never slept well, and half because he was in charge of breakfast. (Anxiety over sleeping late and not being able to fulfill the latter probably contributed to the former.)</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Every morning he wanted the Joxter as soon as he woke up. His arms ached for him. He would have liked nothing more than to bed down in his cabin with him, every night, but his uncle, who never entirely trusted the Joxter (and not for unfair reasons, either) would have claimed the Joxter's head for it. If he knew.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>So in the morning he'd steal off to where the Joxter slept, and while the Joxter took naps wherever he pleased, he always slept for the night in his cabin where the Muddler could find him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
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  <p>He'd slip into bed with him and wake him with his hands and his lips, gentle caresses and warm embraces and a final chaste kiss. The Joxter was always slow to wake up, maybe by intention. He loved tenderness, to be made much of. In the mornings the Joxter felt the most his.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
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  <p>Sometimes they'd make love and sometimes they didn't, sometimes they whispered to one another about their dreams, and sometimes they were quiet.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I love you," he'd whisper, when he heard Moomin or his uncle stirring, and leave to make porridge or lingonberry crepes. Usually, of course, the Joxter would fall asleep again instantly as soon as he closed the door, but the Muddler never minded leaving his plate out on the table for him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>If they were lucky sometimes his uncle and Moomin would sleep in, and the Joxter would wake up enough to put the Muddler's eyeliner on for him, or the Muddler would show him a button that he particularly liked. He would never give them to him, as his uncle would catch on if he caught the Joxter with them, but if he really wanted to (there was once, for instance, a broken pin with a cracked emerald that would have complimented the Joxter's eyes) but from then on he'd always think of them as being "the Joxter's button", "the Joxter's pin." He liked thinking of finding a place where he would never be afraid of giving them to him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>One morning, after working out his lust for him, the Joxter's languid arms around him and his legs wrapped around his waist, the Muddler thought again of what he could give him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He brought him a flower every morning from then on, things he surreptitiously picked on the shore, and the Joxter added them to the crown around his hat until they were wilted and grey. No one noticed but them.</p>
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